


Trompe L'oeil

by Jjon Adams (Lanyonn)



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, M/M, PWP, Threesome, Threesome - M/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-01
Updated: 2017-07-01
Packaged: 2018-11-22 03:22:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,491
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11371551
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lanyonn/pseuds/Jjon%20Adams
Summary: Will had thought that he had been pretty accepting of the idea that his boyfriend, Francis Dolarhyde, wanted an open relationship. However, he doesn’t know how he feels about an actual threesome. Or at least he thinks he doesn’t until he discovers that the person in Francis’ mind is his ex-boyfriend, Hannibal Lecter.





	Trompe L'oeil

**Trompe L'oeil**

 

At first, Will feels faint and thinks he might pass out. Then he feels a little sick and wonders if he can make it in time to the bathroom before retching. Francis must see the play of emotions on his face because he laughs and makes Will look at himself.

 

“It is going to be fun, babe,” Francis reassures him, and starts kissing his neck. “Stop stressing.”

 

Will meets Hannibal’s eyes over Francis’ shoulder.

 

Yeah, right. Like having fun or not is the only reason why Will is feeling like the doomsday is finally here. Some day, thirty five years into the future, Will _might_ look back and laugh at his twenty one year old self and write off his emotions as an inexperienced college student’s overreaction. But that day is not today and right now, right here, Will’s mind is racing in every possible direction in which this can go so wrong.

 

It doesn’t help that despite all of this, his instant reaction on seeing Hannibal was ‘ _fuck, you’re still so hot_ ’.

 

As if breaking up with a guy is supposed to make him any less attractive. Maybe breaking up with a regular guy might deceive mind into thinking he is less attractive. But Hannibal Lecter is _not_ a regular guy and they didn’t as much break up as blow up in a nuclear reaction because Will decided that he had had enough and walked out regardless of Hannibal’s opinion on the matter. So while Will’s brain is drumming in dissent and his heart is twisted every which way in opposing emotions, his knees are still going weak in anticipation of how _good_ it feels to be with Hannibal.

 

Hannibal is freshly showered, dark hair uncombed and slightly damp against his forehead. He has decided to forgo his usual TA’s formal attire in favour of a simpler shirt and leather jacket with dark jeans.

 

Hannibal is _never_ so bourgeoisie as wearing fucking _jeans_. Maybe it is not Hannibal at all, his brain scampers wildly, grasping at delusions. Maybe it is a look alike. Maybe God has a sick sense of humour so that there are actually _two_ of Hannibal Lecter in this world.

 

But he looks into those sharp, probing eyes and he _knows._ He knows because he can see that Hannibal knows what this is doing to him right now and he fucking thinks this is hilarious. He has the galls to actually smile at Will and raise the glass of his blood red wine at him from where he is seated on the bed watching him and Francis.

 

“Hello, Will. It is good to finally meet you,” says Hannibal, and yeah, alright, Will wants to kneecap him right there and he hates his body for wrongly interpreting his intentions as ‘ _this is sexy, brain doesn’t need blood, cock does_ ’.

 

Fucking hormones.

 

Francis takes his reaction as approval and starts to undress him. It is moving a tad too fast for Will. But Francis is slightly drunk and horny and Will isn’t giving him any reason to think he might not be interested.

 

“Oh yes, this is Hannibal,” Francis waves a hand in the general direction of the bed.

 

Obviously, this friendship between Hannibal and Francis goes back some way if Francis doesn’t feel the need of telling Hannibal who Will is. Will doesn’t even want to know if Hannibal is one of Francis’ occasional sex partners. He just wants to fucking get the hell out of here because there is no way this is not going to end in some kind of absolute bloodbath.

 

Of course, his cock has other ideas.

 

Annoyingly, the biggest part of him is also infuriated and jealous that Hannibal might have been fucking Francis on the side. Oh, their arrangement of an open relationship is perfectly fine with Will. But if it is Hannibal –

 

Will tears his gaze away from the smirking man on the bed before he seriously hurls a vase into his face. Or a hot iron.

 

When Will walked out on Hannibal, it was supposed to end right there – whatever they had, it was supposed to go away. It had been painful and felt impossible but Will had told himself that he was just nineteen and he had his whole life before him. He couldn’t spend it mooning over one guy who wasn’t good for him. He had worked _hard_ to convince himself that he had gotten over Hannibal.

 

It enrages him now that this is not the case.

 

The mere idea of someone else having their hands on Hannibal is making him want to chop the world to pieces and burn it up in big flames. It is sad that the certain someone else is his actual current boyfriend.

 

So Will grasps the back of Francis’ neck instead and shuts his eyes. He makes him draw away from where he has been busy kissing and sucking on his neck as he undressed him. “This is all the birthday present you’re getting this year,” he tells Francis, and then mashes their lips together in a bruising, biting kiss before Francis can reply; knocks the wind right out of him, kissing him to distraction.

 

When he comes up for breath again, there are only his boxer briefs to kick away.

 

He holds Hannibal’s gaze as he slips off his last article of clothing, not particularly sexy, but he doesn’t need to be. He has managed to wipe the smirk right off Hannibal’s face and he can no longer read Hannibal’s emotions in his eyes. And it is exactly what he was aiming for.

 

As Francis quickly gets rid of his clothes, Will walks up to Hannibal in all his naked glory and sits down in his lap.

 

“Hannibal, was it?” he asks, taking Hannibal’s glass from his hand and finishing the rest of the wine in it in one go before putting it aside. He cannot stop staring into Hannibal’s eyes, cannot stop feeling so familiar with the broad shoulders, muscular chest, the broad thighs under his ass. “You certainly have an unusual name, Hannibal. But, it is good to meet you, too. It is actually the first time I’m meeting one of Francis’ friends.”

 

Will would have preferred not to feel as wrecked as he does when he says the words. He knows he has clawed into Hannibal’s defences but he has ripped his fingernails out doing it. But the instant he touched Hannibal again, some switch inside Will had flicked directions and no, this is not going to turn out well at all.

 

If only that made Will want Hannibal any less, it would at least be a _little_ useful.

 

Because if anything, the world is slowly fading out around Will, all his senses zeroing in on Hannibal. He is so goddamn hard already, straddling Hannibal’s lap and pressing himself against Hannibal’s clothed groin and stomach. He wants Hannibal to tell him the sweet nothings he is so good at mixing with completely filthy words. He wants Hannibal to hold his body possessively and yet gently, so intimate that Will cannot imagine their bodies as separate entities anymore. He wants Hannibal’s mouth to worship every bit of his skin, wants his fingers to coax him to the brink of orgasm again and again, all the while Hannibal being completely in control and dressed as if he is about to throw a formal dinner party.

 

It is painful how badly he _wants_ Hannibal.

 

It is painful to recall how the exact same scenario had played out numerous times between them before and it is painful to think of how _safe_ he had felt despite being completely bare and vulnerable in Hannibal’s arms or underneath him. The impersonality of their current situation is like a splash of defacing colour over those memories.

 

Will has always been a bit of masochist, so he persists and grabs the leather jacket in both fists and presses their lips together in a brief, hard kiss.

 

Hannibal doesn’t respond.

 

Will gives him a withering smile before pushing his jacket off his body and then moves off his lap onto the bed. He had expected to feel like he won at least one small battle, but he ends up feeling distressingly hollow. Not guilty, not humiliated, just empty even before anything has really started. So he turns his attention to Francis and strokes his cock lazily as he meets Francis’ eyes.

 

“Hannibal is fond of mouths on his cock,” supplies Francis helpfully as he joins them on the bed. “And I always wanted to watch you while you used your lovely skills, babe.”

 

Hannibal finally gets on schedule and takes off his clothes as he watches Francis kiss Will and feel him up. He has had more intimate unhurried sex with Will but their fucking hasn’t yet crossed into the domain of love making. So this is actually really easy for Will with Francis being here.

 

But Will can feel Hannibal’s eyes raise goose bumps on his body. Strangely, it makes him feel a little better that he knows Hannibal doesn’t have a preference for blow jobs one way or the other. Of course he loves a wet mouth on his cock as much as any other guy, but what would really give him a kick is Will’s sleek prepared passage, because he gets off on prolonging foreplay and he gets off on driving Will mad with his tongue and fingers until Will is begging Hannibal to fuck him. Nothing gets Hannibal as hard as hoarse begging from Will after he has completely dismantled his mind and body.

 

Will thinks of it passively, thinks of it as naturally as he breathes. He knows that today is about Francis and his fantasies though and it is quite alright with him that things are going to move to a different tune tonight.

 

It feels like another scratch on his memories with Hannibal as he meets his eyes and takes his cock into his hand. Hannibal isn’t hard but his body starts to respond to Will’s fingers. Will is on his knees so that Francis can loosen him up enough to fuck him. Will is wound up tighter than usual – three parts angry, three parts horny, and two parts tearing at each other over Hannibal like always.

 

It is endearing and exasperating then, that it is Hannibal who ends up being the one who puts him at ease, after all.

 

After Francis comments that he really needs to fuck Will more often because he is way too tight, Hannibal puts a finger to Will’s mouth. Will doesn’t even think as he closes his eyes and opens his mouth to take in the finger, lapping at it and then sucking on it. He feels the ring of muscles below loosen up to Francis’ finger simultaneously. His own hand stills on Hannibal’s cock but Hannibal couldn’t care less. Instead, he adds in another finger in imitation of what Francis is doing to his anus. Will moans as Hannibal places a hand on the back of his neck and gently, patiently, moves around the two fingers in Will’s mouth. Francis takes that as encouragement that he has gotten this right and murmurs his appreciation, his cock prodding Will’s thigh, eager to delve into the tight warmth inside him.

 

Finally, Will feels all parts relaxing and melting so that he can finally start enjoying himself and forget about the rest of it.

 

He is breathing hard, hands grasping onto Hannibal’s powerful thighs as Francis’ fingers start feeling good, the discomfort fading. He arches back, eyes  still locked with Hannibal’s and groans in anticipation as he feels the first touch of Francis’ fingertip against his prostate. Will loves a good fuck and he imagines he is so willing to give up his ass possibly because Hannibal has just ruined him with all the pleasure that can be evoked from the stimulation to the nerves over his prostate.

 

He wants to beg Francis to touch him there _more_ but Hannibal still has his fingers in his mouth and Will is starting to feel breathless – as if it really is Hannibal’s cock now going in so far as to touch the roof of his mouth and the back of his tongue.

 

Fortunately, Francis is good at registering the non verbal cues and as Will twists his hips and pushes up his ass, he obliges and curves in his middle finger so that he is finally, _finally_ rubbing his prostate properly. Will whimpers around Hannibal’s fingers in his mouth, eyes falling shut. He fucks himself on Francis’ fingers, the first taste of it feels so good to him.

 

Hannibal draws out his fingers first, the cries from Will’s throat falling free.

 

“Let me,” Will gasps out, a trickle of saliva moving down his chin. He parts his knees more so that Francis can move easily behind him and dips down his head to grasp Hannibal’s cock. He laps at it wetly with his tongue, feeling Hannibal’s fingers comb back the curls from his forehead as he must watch him work his mouth over his cock. He pauses as Francis’ thick girth stretches his entrance and then closes his lips over Hannibal’s cock as his boyfriend is mercifully quick about pushing inside and not lingering uncomfortably. It is easier for Will to get used to it with the full feeling of a cock stretching his lube slicked walls.

 

There might be some truth to Francis’ statement that Hannibal loves a good head  because Hannibal has a firm grip on his hair almost to the point of pain. But Will’s body is an overwhelmed mess of sensations as Francis strokes his sides and starts fucking him in earnest, senseless exclamations dropping from his lips. He tells him he looks so good sucking Hannibal’s cock while he is getting fucked. And Will is never going to get over how _right_ it feels to be told that he is good at sucking Hannibal off. His mind is closer to being a puddle than his body is and he really wish there was some way to know if it would be alright to swallow Hannibal’s release because he really wants to do it so badly. He doesn’t always do it with Francis but it has been much too long since Hannibal came down his throat. In fact, those last few months that they were together, Hannibal had just enjoyed fucking his ass too much to come in his throat anymore.

 

Is it too pathetic that Will wants this because he is not sure when he might have this again?

 

Hannibal must sense his attention dwindling from the job at hand despite the pounding his ass is receiving. It is good, it is excellent. He has a good rhythm with Francis because Francis knows what kind of pace is perfect for Will. However, Will’s brain is organising itself into pieces again and Hannibal doesn’t want him to do that.

 

So he finally gives Will’s cock some much needed attention.

 

Will groans appreciatively around Hannibal’s cock in his mouth, his ass tightening over Francis’ cock to slow him down a little as Hannibal starts pumping his member – slow, but firm, nothing that is going to tip Will over the edge and come without notice, but just enough to take the edge off and keep him floating.

 

“He’s beautiful,” Francis is talking to Hannibal over his body. “The boy’s beautiful, isn’t he?”

 

There’s a pleased, proud lilt in his tone. Will feels Hannibal’s muscles tighten – not in a good way.

 

He inhales deeply and holds his breath as he lets Hannibal’s cock sink back towards his throat. Hannibal says something to him, merely a murmur, but Will must really be gone further than he thinks he is because he can’t even concentrate enough to make sense of the words. Francis’ thrusts have become more uncontrolled, he is no longer stroking his skin but gripping his hips tight as he takes his pleasure from Will’s body. And it feels good, so good. Will moans his approval around Hannibal’s cock, now bobbing his head faster as he holds the base tight.

 

When Francis starts slowing down and pulling back, Will realises that he wants to change positions with Hannibal, he wants to be the one who comes down Will’s throat.

 

It takes the last remaining shred of Will’s sanity to go along with the plan and not _beg_ Hannibal to come down his throat _first_.

 

The sparkle of amusement is back in Hannibal’s eyes as Will eases off his cock and Will tries to get mad at him on principle but it is too much effort.

 

So he lays back and spreads out his legs, bracing his heels against the mattress, rumpling up the sheets even further and tilting up his ass. He hasn’t had much say in what goes on tonight but he is damned if Hannibal is looking anywhere except his fucking face if he is going to take his ass tonight. He lays back against one of Francis’ thighs and turns his head to push his face into his crotch once Francis has rolled off his rubber and tossed it aside

 

Will groans as Francis horses around, rubbing his cock on Will’s jaw and face – doesn’t he want to come already? He grabs hold of Francis’ cock as he feels Hannibal fold back his thighs and he has lost all semblance of control over his body as Hannibal finally pushes in, cock slicked with lube over condom and if Will thinks ‘ _We never did fuck like this_ ’, he is not merely referring to the situation of the threesome.

 

Francis strokes his face as he sucks him off, knowing that he is getting closer. He’d have preferred to finger Francis’ ass as he sucked him but this isn’t his party and there is only so much he is allowed when Francis gets it in his head that he wants to call all shots.

 

Will is looking up at Francis, really looking at him for the first time since they shed their clothes and it is disconcerting to find the expression reflected back isn’t just arousal. He loves giving head, he loves sucking Francis off but there’s more here tonight, and it is indecipherable and makes him vulnerable in a way he doesn’t want to be. He has had enough of that with Hannibal.

 

Hannibal slams all the way inside his ass. Will’s eyes snap shut, and he groans around Francis’ cock.

 

If Francis had been relentless, at least he had been pleasant enough to give his prostate a good rub. However, Hannibal is calculating in his torture of Will.

 

Hannibal knows Will’s body better than anyone else and even if he has to deal with the novelty of putting a condom between them, he is not deterred. He builds up Will’s anticipation, thrusting inside him further and further in slow increments but holds back from making _that_ spot inside him feel good. Will is free to keen and twist his hips and he doesn’t even register Francis’ cock hitting the back of his throat because fuck, he needs Hannibal to stop with the stupid games and just give it to him where he needs so damn bad.

 

Will’s body would thrash around at his point if he was in a position to do so and Hannibal gives him a little reward for his show of wantonness by keeping his cock buried inside him and just rolling his hips to rub and press over the spot he won’t touch.

 

Will hooks his heels over Hannibal’s arms as he leans forward and rubs his nipples and he wants to ask for more and more, but that seems to be Hannibal’s cue for pulling back and starting the torture all over again.

 

Francis rubs Will’s cock, perfunctory, and then slips back his hand to touch Will where Hannibal’s cock has entered him and is playing fucking games with his ass like they are back in the kindergarten or some shit. Will is frustrated beyond measure by this point – the stimulation is overwhelming but all falls short of that one point he wants _abused._

 

When Francis leans closer towards Hannibal, Will doesn’t watch them kiss but he is aware – aware of a hot flash of anger that sears through his spine, building up like his climax at the base of it. Hannibal is the first to sense his body tremble and maybe he just takes pity on Will (because yeah, Will is just that pathetic by now), because he starts fucking him _properly,_ the way he should have since the beginning. He has Will’s hips lifted up because this is the best angle for Will, and Will’s prostate is a euphoria of sensations. Coupled with Francis’ hand on his cock, sharp flicks of his wrist drawing out his release, orgasm is too easy.

 

He feels loose and limbless after shooting out his release, his mind a pleasant zone of blankness. He still has Francis’ cock in his mouth and he only suckles it as if he is milking a boob. It seems to work for Francis though because he soon joins Will in his orgasm, first releasing in his mouth, then getting his cock out in time so that he can paint the evidence of his release all over Will’s unresisting face and neck. Will moans and swallows, sweat mingling with semen and wipes his closed eyes before forcing them open and gazes at Hannibal from under his eyelashes.

 

He raises one of his legs and presses his foot to Hannibal’s shoulder. His vision is slightly blurry but he is staring at Hannibal as if they’re alone, isolated, cut off from the world, intimate and conjoined in their exile.

 

For a moment, he hallucinates Hannibal’s release filling him up. There is no awareness of the barrier between them and all he feels – and he really does feel it, he would _swear_ – is how good it is to have Hannibal’s semen coat his walls and mark him to his marrow.

 

But as he slowly regains his senses, he realises the hallucination for what it is. Hannibal is still inside him and he wants to rub away the come coating his face before it starts to get itchy. He doesn’t let himself think of the emptiness inside his ass despite being fucked to within an inch of his life. He is mixing the want from his memories with what he wants now. Or maybe he isn’t. He is literally too fucked to care.

 

Francis kisses his mouth; he always gets a kick out of tasting himself inside Will’s mouth. Hannibal’s hands linger over Will’s thighs as he pulls out and Will draws back his leg, letting his limbs drop down to the bed.

 

“You’re gonna have to clean me up,” he slurs, licking his lips as Francis pulls away after kissing him.

 

“Of course, darling.”

 

Francis goes to the bathroom to get a wash cloth.

 

Will’s body trembles as he feels Hannibal place a kiss on the inside of his thigh and it feels like one of the most intimate kisses they have ever shared – and that is something because they have kissed a bloody lot. Will feels choked, shaky. He closes his eyes resolutely, deciding that he _can’t_.

 

By the time Francis gets back, Hannibal is stretched out on the other side of the bed, still naked but hunting Will’s pants for the pack of cigarettes he knows must be there. Will had been a bad boyfriend to Hannibal where smoking was concerned, often thwarting his attempts to quit smoking with nicotine laced kisses.

 

Francis drops down on the bed on his other side, the post coital laziness catching up with his previous drunkenness. Will watches him toss the washcloth onto the bedside table and knows he won’t be able to stay awake another minute.

 

The silence afterwards is only broken by Francis’ snores. Hannibal was always annoyingly awake after sex and that doesn’t seem to have changed. Will would have enjoyed the pleasure of sleep if he had been back in his apartment with Francis. But Hannibal is awake on his other side, smoking one of his Dunhills, and Will always had trouble falling asleep if he knew Hannibal was awake next to him. Some things are too powerful to change.

 

“Give me,” he says, voice merely a hoarse whisper – he didn’t realise how dry his throat was – but Hannibal complies, puts the cigarette between Will’s lips and lets him have a hit before taking it back. They have turned off all lights so Will has to strain to look up towards Hannibal. He should have been curious – should have had a lot of questions. But really, he is just too tired and fucked.

 

“Go to sleep, Will,” Hannibal instructs him once he is done with the smoke.

 

Will is terrified of what he feels as he watches Hannibal easily pick out his clothing even in the darkness and pull it on. He clutches at the messed up bed sheet and he tries to think of all the reasons why he had walked away. That had been his modus operandi for the first few months after leaving Hannibal. He had repeated to himself, over and over, why going back would be a very, very bad idea.

 

But as his ass throbs and he thinks of the sense of emptiness that filled him when Hannibal did not claim him like he should have, the reasons grow diminutive, insignificant.

 

He pushes himself out of the bed and half stumbles into Hannibal’s arms.

 

“Easy,” Hannibal says, tries to lower him back to the bed.

 

Will resists and throws his arms around Hannibal, grasping his jacket, his hair and presses their lips together in an unforgiving kiss.

 

Hannibal answers him this time. His mouth parts under Will’s and he lets Will have his way at first, dominant and insistent, claiming, demanding, trying to get something, anything out of Hannibal – desperate. And Hannibal lets him have what he needs, lets him grasp, claw, tear into him even. But then he is lowering Will to the bed again, mouths still kissing. Will consciously chokes back the sob threatening to tear out of his throat but Hannibal knows.

 

He runs a hand down Will’s naked body – his chest, his stomach, his cock and parted thighs. And he kisses Will once more, gentler but no less passionate, their breathing and heartbeats synchronised. He covers up Will’s body and Will is now truly too tired for anything more.

 

He closes his eyes, still too young, and doesn’t watch Hannibal leave the room.

 

In the morning, when they are leaving the hotel room, Will discovers that he is missing his pack of cigarettes. And it is the first time in the past twelve hours that he has actually felt something that isn’t a variation of ‘fucked up’.

 

 

**_Finis_ **


End file.
